“I could eat,” she said with a shrug. Another lie. She wanted nothing to do with food, but was determined to function normally. They had two days left in Las Vegas before leaving Tuesday morning. She had two days to adjust to her new status as a married woman. Two days to push the nagging anguish from her mind and body.

She managed to keep up the facade for one full day. Until it all came tumbling down the following morning. Once again, she found herself crumpled in a ball on the bathroom floor, clutching her abdomen. Only this time, she had forgotten to lock the door behind her.

Troy barreled into the bathroom after his first knock went unanswered. Elle jumped to her knees as he crashed into the room. His face was red, his eyes wide.

“Enough is enough. What the hell is going on with you? Are you sick? You have to tell me.”

The guilt Elle had felt for the past twenty-four hours multiplied in that brief moment. Knowing Troy, he was probably terrified she had some terminal illness or secret disease she’d managed to hide. If only it was something so innocent, so benign. If that were her reality, he would still love her at the end of the conversation. But she knew, despite her every desire to remain with him as an unmarried couple, that Troy was an all-or-nothing man. He’d given her opportunities to say no, to ask for more time, and she hadn’t taken them.

He’d never forgive her for this.

“I . . . I’m just thinking. I can’t stop thinking.”

Troy’s look of concern changed in an instant. It was now a look of suspicion.

“About what?”

Elle’s forehead wrinkled as she held back tears. Her nose scrunched and her lips pursed tightly together. She had no idea what to say.

“About what, Eleanor?”

Eleanor. He never called her Eleanor. Panic rose once again in her chest.

She closed her eyes tight and answered. “Us. About us.”

“I don’t understand. I thought—” He paused, his mouth agape, his hands on his hips. “I thought you wanted this. I thought we were happy, that you were happy.”

“I was.”

“Was? Then what the hell changed?”

“Please don’t yell at me.” Elle walked past him, heading for the bedroom. She needed more air, needed to breathe.

“Don’t walk away from this!” Troy followed behind her. “Eleanor!”

“I—I’m sorry. You told me I could have more time. I should have taken it. I should have thought things through. But you were so . . . so . . .”

“I didn’t pressure you,” he said, his voice low, his features sunken, defeated.

“I know that.” Elle wrapped her arms around her abdomen, clutching hard, attempting to comfort herself.

“I thought you wanted me, wanted this. I can’t believe how stupid I am.” Troy walked to the corner, pressing his fists against the wall, his head lowered.

“I do want you.”

“Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything.”

“How can you possibly do that? The thought of being my wife is making you sick—physically sick. Do you know how humiliating that is?” Troy’s scarlet cheeks deepened as rage consumed his features. Elle dug her fingernails into her skin as she watched his anger grow.

“I didn’t know . . . I didn’t know I’d feel this way. I was trying! Trying to pull it together . . . for you.”

“For me? How considerate of you.”

Elle walked to Troy, placing her hand on the side of his face. He flinched at her touch. “I mean it. I love you, Troy. I do.”

He averted his eyes, avoiding hers. “Love doesn’t feel like this.”

“I’m sorry. So very sorry.”

“We took vows, Eleanor. And now, what? They’re over? They meant nothing? I meant every word. Every fucking word.”

Tears streamed down Elle’s cheeks. She knew what she wanted was repressible, but she was hanging on by a thread, unsure of how long she could continue a charade with such life-changing consequences. She wanted to convince Troy they could still be happy together, despite their current spiral. Despite the way he looked at her, as if she were a stranger.

“We can fix this and still be together.”

“And how would we do that?” Troy scoffed.

“An annulment. We could get one, and just—just go back to the way things were. To being Troy and Rigby, a happy couple who live in separate apartments but spend every weekend together. Who take walks in Grant Park and order moo shoo pork from China Garden—”

“An annulment? Are you serious?”

Elle nodded, knowing that dissolving the marriage was the only way she could survive.

I’m too young. Too immature. Not ready. Not settled.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe—I gave you so many chances to say no, to say you weren’t ready, that you needed more time. But you didn’t take them. You let me look like a goddamn fool!”

Elle sat on the bed, taking in his wrath, hoping he’d eventually calm down. That they’d be able to speak calmly to one another. She watched as Troy returned to the edge of the bed, his elbows once again digging into his thighs. His head hanging in despair.

“I’m so sorry.” Her cheeks were covered in tears; her voice cracked in anguish. She was hanging on for dear life, terrified of losing Troy forever. She joined him on the bed, running her fingers through his hair as her other arm wrapped around his torso. “This is my fault, all my fault. But please, please don’t give up on me, Troy. Please. I need you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, his voice guarded, lifeless. “Why can’t you just . . . try? You know, give it a few days—see if your cold feet go away?”

Elle swallowed hard. She knew this was Troy’s final act of forgiveness—the only opportunity he would give her to save the relationship. But she couldn’t do it. She’d drown if she did. And she’d resent him for the rest of her life.

“No. I can’t be married, Troy. I’m sorry. This was . . . it was a mistake.”

And for the first time in the many years she’d known Troy Saladino, she watched as he cried. She watched as his eyes grew misty. And she watched as tears streamed down his blood-red cheeks. His hand clutched his forehead as he sobbed. Elle wrapped her arms around him, clutching him tight, and wishing they could go back to the morning in his apartment when everything was sunshine and roses. When their relationship was euphoric and heavenly. Instead, she clung to the man whose heart she’d destroyed. Her fingertips dug into his skin as her sobs matched his.

Elle awoke, alone on the bed.

Troy was gone.

She searched the closets, the bathroom, the drawers.

His bags, his clothes, everything was gone.

He’d left her.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she pinned her hair up, wrapped herself in a fluffy white robe, and grabbed her key card. With reckless abandon, she ran to the elevator, pressing the button again and again. “C’mon, dammit. C’mon.”

Finally, the elevator arrived. A young couple stood, mouths agape at her disheveled appearance as Elle entered the car, pressing the “L” button, despite the fact that it was already glowing. Her pulse raced as she pondered what to ask the front desk. Somehow no question would hide her mortification. When the elevator reached the lobby, Elle sprinted to the expansive front desk. A woman with short, white hair and wide eyes waved Elle to her station. Her name badge said “Geraldine.”

“Young lady, are you all right? Do you need an ambulance?”

Elle looked down at her disheveled appearance, realizing that a bathrobe and bare feet was not the appropriate dress for the Bellagio Hotel lobby.